


Prisoners

by TrashKing (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Mind Games, Minor Original Character(s), Murder, hannibal lector style AU, like multiple murders, mentions of child abuse (oc), obsession of the unhealthy variety, vicious hate fucking, voyuerism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29484966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/TrashKing
Summary: L got enough evidence to imprison Light but not destroy him. Two years into Light's confinement L is desperate to move the dial towards a decisive victory and close the Kira case once and for all but he’s not sure how much of his own mind he’ll have to crack into pieces to do that. Especially when there’s a very real chance Light’s lost his mind entirely.(Mind the tags!)
Relationships: L/Yagami Light
Comments: 62
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw something I’m going to call “the Hannibal concept” floating around the Death Note tag on tumblr a few weeks ago. Aka "Light is captured and L calls upon him to help solve cases". It really resonated with me, so I started writing this. That said I’m definitely not the first person to come up with this idea/trope. Just something that sounded way too fun to ignore! 
> 
> Please mind the tags. This gets messy.

L sips his tea, making an effort to slurp in an especially ugly way. Watari would be mortified but there isn’t any audio on the cameras in here. L thinks there should be but Wedy assures him the complications inherent in recording a room with a single, unaccompanied, occupant for twenty-four hours a day outweigh whatever data they might gather from the exercise.

Besides, Light would likely determine they’d rigged the room and mislead them purposefully.

He’s insufferably clever like that.

Maybe that’s why L keeps coming back?

Light’s eyes narrow, just a flex, as L slurps but they flash, all at once, to an empty patch of air over L’s shoulder.

“What is it?” L asks.

“Nothing,” Light answers without missing a beat, eyes focusing back on L all at once.

His eyes are so heated. But he does this sometimes too; looks at ghosts. L can’t imagine what he sees but he knows Light definitely sees _something_. L’s had the room scanned numerous times and it’s perfectly mundane in every way. L chose this suite because it was perfectly dull. Partially to torment Light with a low stimulation environment but also to gather more data.

Once they scanned the room while Light was still inside it. He was handcuffed, blindfolded and gagged but he was still present. All the forensic techs found was a slight, unexplained, temperature drop of two degrees in one corner of the room. Not enough to draw any conclusions but, still, L always wonders.

“Sometimes, on the surveillance,” L supposes, “it looks like you’re talking to yourself.”

“Does it?” Light deflects innocently. “Well, you could hardly blame me, could you? I’ve only been permitted to interact with you and my lawyer for two years now.”

“An insanity defence doesn’t suit you,” L tuts. “One day I’ll see whatever it is you see.”

“Maybe you should put yourself in supreme isolation for a while, see who you start talking to,” Light suggests, still perfectly placid.

That’s perhaps the most significant piece of data L has.

Isolation such as this is trying on any human mind, even an exceptional one like Light’s, but even after two years Light’s perfect façade never slips or fractures. Not even for a split second. He still maintains his innocence in that infuriatingly calm way of his. His father argues its humility, despair, but L hears the taunt hidden in Light’s voice.

Or…

He thinks he does.

He got enough evidence with the first Death Note to imprison Light unconditionally but there wasn’t enough for a trial or a formal punishment like execution. L found the Death Note, one Death Note, but he knows there are things he _hasn’t_ found. Light still has secrets tucked away in that puzzle mind of his and so long as they linger there, unseen horrors, then Light is dangerous. He has too much power to roam free. So L can’t destroy him, this unfathomable beast in human skin, but he can cage him temporarily. L knows it won’t last forever. They’re in Pandora’s Box, in stasis, but the threat still lingers of what Light could do.

“Is it your Shinigami you see?” L wonders.

“Hmm?” Light picks up his tea. “Are you still going on about that? Honestly, if I didn’t need your company so badly I’d resent you for asking the same fishing questions every time you visit.”

L sighs, slurping again just to be insufferable himself for a second.

They circle each other but, for all his posturing, L hasn’t made any real progress in closing the Kira case. Light has the advantage here. He just has to wait for things to change in some way. L suspects even the smallest, most insignificant, change would give Light leeway to pounce and rip the world apart again.

The Kira killings stopped with Higuchi but…

“I know there’s a second Death Note out there.” L rues.

“There probably is.” Light agrees. “You should be chasing the person who has it. Instead of wasting time with me.”

“You’re right.” L places down his cup. “I better go then, Light.”

It’s meant, in a cruel way, to illicit a panic response.

Any human being kept so tortuously alone for so long should be desperate to keep L in the chair, talking, just for a second longer.

“Alright, see you next time then,” Light sips.

Sometimes L has to wonder if Light, if _Kira_ , is human at all….?

* * *

They call it the Cage. L calls it that anyway. That’s what it is, for all intents and purposes; a well designed prison cell. It’s an open plan apartment design. All the basic amenities and comforts but no walls to hide behind. No corners, no windows, cameras everywhere…

Light has no internet and the letters he is permitted to exchange with his family and legal representation are screened and photocopied for L’s personal catalogues. He gets television, books, his grocery list… Most things he asks for L supplies but there will always be a reinforced steel door and three armed guards standing between Light and freedom.

What is he planning?

How is he going to get out of this one?

L doesn’t know but some part of him delights in finding out.

“L,” Watari greets as he reaches the base of the elevator.

“Yes Watari?” L shuffles into his office proper, curling up on his chair as he taps the keyboard to summon up the outputs across his screens.

“Three things,” Watari begins, “Mister Mikami, Light’s—”

“His legal representative, yes.” L nods.

“He’s lodged another appeal to Interpol regarding the case. They’re asking if you have any additional evidence to add to the file.”

“Hmm,” L grunts.

Just the same as always.

How long will that hold…?

“What else?” L prompts.

“Chief Yagami has reached out again asking you to consider allowing him to visit.”

L sighs so hard his shoulders heave.

He likes Chief Yagami, honestly. How did he make someone like Light exactly? Sayu, the other one, she seems stable enough. L’s had her profiled and psychologically assessed and she seems an unremarkable teenage girl with average to middling intelligence. How did--?

“And the FBI have sent over a case file they’d like you to review.”

“Forward me the file please, Watari,” L instructs.

Watari slides into his chair on the opposite desk. “As a personal note, L?”

“Hmm?” L doesn’t glance up, clicking through the system.

“You should send Near something for his birthday. You know how he looks forward to—”

“Already dispatched, Watari.” L assures. “The case file?”

“Of course,” Watari turns to his keyboard diligently.

Watari doesn’t say it but he knows, on some level, that the old man is worried.

* * *

L reviews the case file. It’s complicated but not clever. Somehow its dull in a mind throbbing way to him. A US based terror cell, hackers, dark web forums, weapons trafficking towards some hinted to major event…

It’s very formulaic.

Still, maybe…?

Well, to a hungry man every meal looks good, right?

L considers the pros and cons for longer than he’d like to admit. He needs to be careful. The killings have stopped now but a wrong move could spell disaster. This is a very delicate glass structure he’s assembling and until he fastens it with hard, indisputable, evidence it is precarious.

But he who strikes first always wins.

So he makes his way up towards the Cage. He makes a show of knocking but types in the seven digit keycode anyway a moment later.

“It’s late.” Light remarks lazily, sprawled comfortably across the couch with a book he rereads regularly.

“Apologies,” L prefaces, climbing into the armchair across the coffee table.

“Something on your mind?” Light hums, twisting onto his back, eyes still primed on the book.

“How would you like to assist me on a case?”

The temptation dangles there for—

For less than three seconds.

“No thanks.” Light deadpans nonchalantly.

L freezes.

_No thanks…?_

L feels his hands curl reflexively on his knees.

He is childish and he hates to lose.

But he can’t deny something about the bold strategy excites him.

“Are you sure?” L presses. “Aren’t you bored?”

“Helping you on a case you’ve already solved sounds even duller.” Light shrugs behind his book.

“Already solved…?” L savours the phrase.

“The way you worded the question,” Light counters, “tells me you’ve already solved the case. You’re asking me if I _want_ to help, you don’t _need_ me to help.”

“Very true,” L admits.

Still razor sharp then.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, I can’t begrudge your standards.” L admits. “I’d probably feel the same way. I’ll have to come back with something interesting next time.”

“Feel welcome to,” Light invites, still totally level and lazy. “It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do.”

“Goodnight Light.”

“Night L.” Light drawls, still not even bothering to glance away from his book.

L doesn’t stop until he’s hit the elevator.

What made Light? No, better, what primordial cauldron of fire and lightning made _Kira?_

Kira’s in there, waiting, watching…

L can see the shadow of him on the flooring but if he’s not careful his target will splatter his entrails out like jello shots.

No one has ever challenged him like Light.

No one has ever been so thrilling and fearsome and delicious all in the same toxic bite.

L will be proud to destroy Light but, for the sake of everyone left alive, he knows he has to do it carefully. If Light escapes, if Light is unleashed upon the world for even a day, an hour, then the world will know the full force of his wrath and no one will ever be able to cage him again.

In that reality L dies.

But every day he delays, every day he fails to find the smoking gun, he brings them a little bit closer to oblivion. Interpol won’t let him hold a twenty year old Japanese boy indefinitely. Light’s legal representation, Teru Mikami, has been relentless in appealing the case over and over and over…

L is sure Light has something to do with the determination of the press, but he also suspects Mikami, a hardnosed do-gooder, is a little obsessed with freeing what he’s idolized Light into; a despairing innocent unfairly imprisoned by a bully of a foreign detective.

L is going to have to come at this from a different angle.

* * *

Light is the only criminal L’s ever seen who- bound, gagged and blindfolded- manages to look austere. Like some deified statue of Christ in a Russian Orthodox church he stands there, no more than a pinned bug, exuding a presence that obviously makes the guards nervous.

“I’m sorry about this Light,” L lies lazily. “We had to conduct an essential security check of your suite.”

It’s not even a clever lie but L needs more data.

Right now Wedy is planting a thousand tiny bugs in Light’s rooms. The audio will record, alongside the cameras, for every second of every single day until L either has the evidence he needs or removes them.

What will Light say? Will he say anything?

L isn’t entirely sure, but he’s interested to find out.

Three hours later Wedy texts L that the task is complete. L helps escort Light back to his suite and, behind the sealed steel door, helps unfasten Light from the wheelchair he’s strapped too.

Blindfold goes first and Light, for all his brilliance, looks tired and exasperated. Like this is just the next in a long line of exhausting insults L has lobbed at him. If L was any less certain he’d feel a little ashamed of himself.

“Are you alright?” L supposes.

Light grunts behind the gag.

“Oh, yes, of course.” L diverts, unfastening the bit to ease it out of Light’s mouth.

“I understand your reasoning for all _this_.” Light jerks his chin. “But it still feels excessive. After Misa I might just think you’re into all this crap.”

“Something like that I suppose,” L snorts, unbuckling Light’s wrists. “Does it make you want to hit me?”

“Obviously,” Light sighs, without venom.

“I’m sorry Light,” L maintains, “you’re our prime suspect.”

“For a case that’s been cold for two years.” Light sags in the wheelchair, letting L unstrap him passively for another moment.

“Try to see things from my perspective.”

“I think, for my sake,” Light drawls, “I should be selfish instead.”

“Oh?” L glances, curious and keen.

“Yes,” Light answers.

“Will you elaborate?” L presses.

“No.”

Damn it.

He does like it when he gets a glimpse into the machinations of Light’s skull.

Light let’s L help him stand but, drifting past him, Light starts picking at the buttons on his shirt with his back to L.

“If you don’t mind,” Light supposes, “I always feel disgusting after that torture device. I’m going to have a long, hot, shower.”

“Is that my cue to leave?” L stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Oh you can watch on the surveillance, if you want,” Light invites flippantly, “but I want the illusion of some space. You’re a voyeur too, aren’t you? This should be fine.”

“I suppose so…” L snorts. “Evening Light.”

“Night L.” Light dismisses.

Light does shower, true to his word. He has some dinner, or at least he has ice cream, and curls up on his couch to read for several hours.

It’s not until almost midnight, lamps low, that Light starts to speak.

L switches on the audio instantly.

Finally.

 _Now, give me something_.

“Oh I know,” Light answers an invisible question. “I’m not that dumb.”

L strokes his bottom lip, listening.

“It hardly matters.” Light sags, sprawling across the couch.

Are they talking about the bugs? Does he know?

“Huh?” Light lifts his head towards nothing. “You really need me to spell everything out for you, don’t you Sayu?” He chuckles, slumping back down.

Sayu…?

His sister…?

L’s stomach clenches.

“L,” Watari speak up, without glancing from his station. “Perhaps Light would benefit from a routine psych evaluation…?”

Watari lets the implication dangle there, unspoken.

L feels his irritation burst open.

Son of bitch.

He knows. He has to know.

This is a red herring. It has to be. L doesn’t have data from other nights to confirm or deny if this if the first time he’s called his invisible friend ‘Sayu’ so if they submit this as evidence it’ll work against L and—

Damn it.

No, he just needs to wait. Eventually Light will slip something he can use.

He just has to be patient.

* * *

Light speaks to Sayu, on and off, almost every day. Sometimes just a stray sentence, sometimes a full-on dialogue, but it’s like hearing half a phone conversation. L can’t full decipher the meanings of every exchange in the bigger picture. Is Light planning something?

Sometimes he talks about his childhood but L wonders if any of it is true or if it’s code?

“Yeah, I remember her,” Light murmurs, not looking up from his book. “The cat followed us home. It was pretty but it was infested with fleas. It’s no wonder Mum didn’t let us keep it. Strays are unpredictable.”

L considers, for the first time in a long time, reaching out the Yagamis.

Sayu, the real Sayu, would she consent to an interview? Probably not without a lawyer present and her father is so determined to see Light freed he likely wouldn’t consent to anything without more information. The problem is if L explains the situation in any detail the Yagamis will have more to take to Interpol in their desperate, compassionate, pleading.

Maybe…

L waits a week, has Light returned to the wheelchair, and makes him sit there for another few hours. He only has the staff clean and rustle Light’s suite but he’s hoping, perhaps, Light will conclude they’ve removed the audio bugs.

It’s a risk but L is willing to try it.

Anything would be better than nothing.

That night, returned to the Cage, Light resumes reading. Chin in hand he murmurs;

“Yeah, I know Sayu.”

And doesn’t speak again for the rest of the night.

Nothing changes.

Light doesn’t give him anything he can use.

It’s all so…

 _Cryptic_.

Or is L just reading too far into the psychotic ramblings of a desperately strained young man?

No, Light’s smarter than that. L honestly believes that much and if he doubts himself now. Well, then…

“Heh, yeah that idiot really did get flustered,” Light smirks on the cameras. “It was fun to see him get so angry. I’d pay money to see his stupid face again.”

* * *

Another day, another case, another tea and biscuits date with Light in the Cage.

L feels himself becoming more aggressive.

“I realized your sister turned sixteen recently.” L remarks.

“Oh yeah?” Light lifts his head, expression deceptively soft. “I lose track of time a little in here sometimes.”

“You must miss her a lot,” L supposes.

“Miss her?” Light repeats. “I guess.”

“That’s a little cold.” L tuts.

“Honestly, I don’t think I was much suited to siblings.” Light shrugs. “She’s a sweet kid, a good young woman now I’m sure, but we were never really close. Just as close as you end up being when you’re stuck together.”

L frowns.

Is Light bringing his own insanity defence into question? Or is he strengthening it right now in a uniquely round about way? L can hear the defence attorney now: a young man, helplessly trying to be tough in front of his captor, trying to protect is baby sister…

Either way Light seems determined to give him nothing.

“That’s a long face,” Light notes. “Do you have siblings L?”

“Yes,” L answers, lashing out in some subtle way. Trying to lay bait, trying to lure Light into letting something slip…

“Really?” Light blinks, startled L is telling him such a thing.

“Brothers.” L explains. “Little brothers.”

“Huh…” Light digests that. “Do _you_ miss them?”

“Sometimes,” L shrugs. “They’re difficult but they look up to me. It’s exhausting sometimes to be someone they can depend upon and who meets their expectations.”

“Heh, yeah…” Light sighs.

“I don’t know what to say to them most of the time,” L admits. “If you could tell Sayu anything right now, what would you say?”

Light glances at his lap, stewing.

“I would say…” he hums for a second, hesitating. “Being good gets you nowhere. Break all the rules.”

“Oh?” L blinks.

“Yeah,” Light snorts. “I played nice and look where it got me.”

L frowns.

Damn it.


	2. Chapter 2

L needs to switch tactics.

He’s spent a lot of time the last two weeks scouring case files from across the globe looking for… Well, looking for something he can’t solve with his eyes closed.

It becomes something of a compulsion. Answer an email, scan two case files, abandon them like candy wrappers, move on to another email…

L starts circling down to more minor crimes and undeveloped conspiracy theories. A detective in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, has submitted a theory for the record involving three deaths in a small suburb across the last five years. The brutal but clinically cleaned murder of a gym teacher at the regional high school, the suspicious overdose of a teenage boy from the same school two days after graduation, a missing girl found in parts six months ago who was heading to the same locality before her disappearance…

The deaths, on a surface level, seem so random, so unassuming. They have only two fibres of connective tissue; One, they occurred in the same locality. Two, whoever carried out these deeds did so in a thoughtful and resourceful manner. Someone put a lot of time and effort into getting rid of these people and then getting away with it. The gym teacher, his violent crime scene photos, speak of passion but there’s something almost clinical about how the missing girl was dumped in fragments. Could they be connected…?

L isn’t sure and he doesn’t have anywhere near enough evidence to draw any conclusions. He thinks, perhaps, the same mind is ticking away behind the three deaths. He can almost see the signature of an uncaught killer but… that could just be a trick of the light. A suggestion, compelling but unfounded. 

All three crimes are unsolved.

If he solves one will that untangle the others?

He wants to know but he doesn’t have anything substantial to connect the dots. Hell, he doesn’t have _anything_ to connect the dots. Just a sixth sense.

Is this the one…?

He’ll conduct an experiment.

He takes five case files up to the Cage. All unresolved deaths in Baton Rouge. Three he believes are connected and the other two are similar in different ways (another missing person, another drug related death) but L doesn’t see the fingerprints of this phantom killer on them.

“Light,” he greets.

“Hmm?” Light hums.

“I need you to look at these for me.” L instructs.

Light glances up as L places the print outs on the coffee table.

Light shuffles to sit properly while L coils into the armchair with his knees tucked tight against his chest. Light unfolds them each, like a present, one after the other. He skims through their summary reports sharp eyes licking across the pages with intent and focus.

Light starts making piles.

Two files go in stack A, the third file goes into stack B.

Light rereads files four and five.

File four goes in stack B.

File five goes in stack A.

“These,” Light taps the stack of three. “You see it, right?”

“What exactly?” L tempts.

Light has no prior knowledge of these cases, he couldn’t.

“Same killer.” Light appraises confidently.

“There’s no compelling evidence for that.” L voices his own concerns.

“I’m not saying I have compelling evidence.” Light agrees. “But I can _smell_ it. Same killer. Same mind. Same hunting style.”

“That was my thought.”

“They’re getting better too,” Light remarks. “The gym teacher is chronologically the first murder but it’s the messiest. The high school graduate, two years ago, is already a vicious improvement and now, the missing girl six months ago, has the least physical evidence of any of the cases. This killer is a fast learning, proficient, monster.”

“I wonder…” L hums. “Do you think there are more deaths in the area that belong to this person?”

“You’d need to review every case in the region for the last five—No, six years.”

“How do you figure?”

“The gym teacher definitely appears to be the first murder, but it might not be the first _crime_. There might be a lesser associated charge. Likewise, there might be minor crimes committed since that time and some murders belonging to this killer might’ve been pinned on easier scapegoats. We can’t simply take it as a matter of unsolved cases with someone this clever.”

“Right,” L agrees. “Will you assist me?”

“You’ll need to contact the Baton Rouge police department and get permission to consult on the cases.” Light tsks, picking his book back up. “If you get that I’d be interested in helping.”

L grips his knees a fraction tighter.

“I’ll contact them.” He declares.

“Sounds good,” Light grunts nonchalantly.

* * *

L moves with a determined efficiency. He senses somehow that if he can get himself access to these cases he can, slowly, make progress on the Kira case for the first time in two years. He gives Watari the details and Watari makes the formal communications. The police chief is a little mystified the world’s greatest detective wants to review some of his cold cases but is open to the prospect.

“I’m going to need detective Harris to assist me.” L explains across the teleconference into his voice distortion set up.

“Why exactly would you need that, Sir?” Police Chief Stephens blinks into the webcam, not trying to hide his confusion.

“Given my current circumstances I am unable to leave Japan.” L explains. “I need someone to do the leg work in your locality. I have reviewed all your on-staff detectives and I believe I would work best with detective Harris. Watari will fly out to get him set up with the tech necessary for us to communicate effectively. He’ll be using a body camera and headset so I can see and communicate with him at all times.”

“Oh…” Stephens digests. “If you believe that’s the best course of action, Sir, I certainly trust your instincts.”

It’s a lie, sort of.

But L still wants detective Harris.

“Good,” L nods, “Watari will be with you in twenty-four hours. Please make sure detective Harris is available when he arrives.”

“Of course, Sir.”

* * *

L always feels a little strange when Watari isn’t in the building, but he trusts Watari to act as his eyes and ears in any circumstance so really no one else could go in his stead. Besides, like he said, L can’t afford to leave Japan. He refuses to leave Light unsupervised. A slight chink in the armour and Light might get ideas. He’d move fast if he thought L wasn’t on site to curtail his schemes.

L takes several things into the Cage tonight.

One laptop for him, one for Light, a connector to stream Watari and Harris to the television set up in Light’s suite, and headsets for himself and Light. No webcams. No one needs to see their faces.

On the television screen Watari appears before a webcam halfway across the world in Baton Rouge. Detective Harris is with him, an unassuming man of thirty-two, who looks a little bemused by all this smoke and mirror spectacle.

“Detective Harris,” L greets. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hey,” Harris grunts awkwardly, “you must be L, right?”

“Yes,” L answers. “I am also accompanied by my associate K. For the duration of this case you, K, Watari and I will be working together.”

“Right,” Harris digests, “evening K.”

“Don’t mind L, he’s a little excessive with theatrics but his methods are solid, classic, detective work,” Light greets, snorting into his headset. “You’ll get used to it Harris, trust me.”

“Heh, thanks.”

Immediately Harris lightens up.

How does Light do that? Just reach into people and flick their switches?

He’s such an exceptionally charming liar.

“So…” Harris rumbles, glancing to Watari and then back to the screen. “Can I ask something?”

“Of course,” Light declares before L can answer.

L frowns.

“You’re our partner. It would be wrong to not answer your questions.” Light continues, meeting L’s gaze pointedly.

“I just…” Harris laughs weakly. “Why me? There are some more experienced detectives on the staff and if you wanted someone green who’d just follow orders we got one or two of them as well.”

“You were the first person to float the idea that the cases in front of us are connected,” L reveals. “As such I think you’re the only one who’s proven you have the insight to work effectively with us. You’re obviously a detective with good instincts.”

“Is this--?” Harris perks. “This is about _those_ cases? Out in Shenandoah?”

“The same.” L nods.

“I knew there was something there!” Harris laughs. “No one here took me seriously but…”

“We feel the same way,” Light assures. “These cases are connected somehow.”

“That’s our instinct anyway,” L grunts. “For now we should get to work before we get too excited.”

“The work _is_ the exciting part,” Light smirks. “For you anyway.”

L snorts, glancing away. “K feels we should review all cases in the Shenandoah area from the last six years.”

“Six years?” Harris blinks. “Murders? Unsolved?”

“No,” L repeats; “ _all cases_ in the Shenandoah area from the past six years. Solved or unsolved.”

“Th-that’s thousands!” Harris gapes.

“Well good thing there’s four of us and you’ll be getting paid overtime.” Light chimes in, still smirking.

“I-I guess?” Harris wheezes. “Shouldn’t we narrow this down?”

“Preliminary research casts a wide net,” Light insists. “We need to make sure we have the whole chart of this killers progress. Anything we’ve missed attributing to them is a lead or evidence we’re not making use of.”

“Precisely.” L agrees.

* * *

The preliminary research takes _days_. The four of them review every case file. L and Light are the quickest. Light can scan a summary page and know immediately if it’s the killer they’re looking for or not. L is a fraction slower, only because he’s issuing suggestions to Harris to solve the assorted cases they’re reviewing.

“This robbery isn’t our guy,” L will say, “but have someone investigate the cashier’s brother; Lawrence Hill.”

“Right, got it.” Harris has an ongoing notepad with case file numbers and L’s suggestion. Every night, before going home to his girlfriend, he and Watari email them to the right detectives in Baton Rouge.

Light meanwhile eats through cases like a machine. Quietly making piles and discarding whole stacks of cases into a simple ‘ _No_ ’ section. Honestly, Watari has had to recruit some rookies at the police station to digitize the files not currently up to date on the system because at the frenetic pace L and Light are devouring them it’s hard for everyone to keep up. Baton Rouge isn’t a small police district, but they have so much going on sometimes things, especially minor cases, get waylaid when it comes to updating the system.

Because of the time difference there is a portion of the day and the night where L and Light are working while Detective Harris and Watari sleep.

“You’re still so good at this,” L notes, one late evening while they sit in relative silence a string quartet Light likes playing on the wifi linked television to fill background.

“I could be a great detective one day,” Light snorts fondly, “if…”

“If?” L encourages absently.

“If I don’t die in here.” Light completes the thought.

L sits with that for a second, not really glancing at his laptop screen anymore.

It’s not that he’s upset for the typical reason it just…

“You’re thinking something.” Light rues.

“I’m irritated.” L admits.

“Oh?” Light scoffs. “My feelings irritate you?”

“The fact you think I’ll fall for that paper thin angst irritates me.” L counters.

“I’m a person, L.” Light grumbles, not looking away from his screen. “Whatever you’ve puffed me up to be in your head; I’m a person. I’ve lost two years of my life here I’ll never get back. That _does_ upset me. That _does_ make me sad. You can believe whatever you want but honestly I think you’re just uncomfortable hearing it.”

“Uncomfortable?” L scoffs.

“If you had enough to convict me, I’d already be dead.” Light maintains. “And while you hate to think the world’s greatest detective could be wrong, you’re irritated by my pain because you know you’ve caused it. And if you caused it by being stubborn, by being wrong, you will feel guilty and you hate that.”

L looks into the belly of nothing, eyes bouncing off the pixels on his screen.

Light doesn’t need to say anything else. He’s made his point and he’s confident the knife is buried deep enough that he doesn’t feel the very human urge to gloat.

Sometimes L thinks he understands Light too well but some days, for a few tense seconds, he wonders if he understands Light at all…?

“Do you hate me?” L asks, voice aloof and cold.

“What do you want to hear?” Light supposes, glancing at him.

“What do you mean?” L frowns, head tilted curiously.

“Do you want me to say I despise you, so you can distance yourself? Or perhaps so you can embrace your own self-loathing?” Light suggests. “Or do you want me to say I understand your rationale and that I would do the same in your situation, so you can feel better about yourself? Or so you can hate yourself more as I play the heart broken martyr wasting his youth away?”

“What’s the truth?” L replies. “I _want_ the truth.”

“My truth is the only thing I have left in here,” Light maintains unwavering eye contact, his face unreadable. “I won’t surrender it for free.”

And just like that Light turns away.

L can’t shake the feeling, on some level, that Light has unpacked him these last two years. Light is a skilled social chameleon. For good or ill Light has spent his whole life trying to make other people happy, make them like him or do what he wants.

And it feels like…

Like he’s dissected L during their time together.

And what he sees _bores_ him.

L hates to think it, let alone say it, but some tiny, wicked, part of him hates that Light doesn’t look at him with surprise or interest anymore. That coldness, that distance, more than anything makes L doubt himself.

L wants to break something.

But that would be childish, and he hates the idea of Light seeing him squirm, effected by the words, so he mechanically reads through sixty more case files until three am when Light announces he’s going to sleep.

* * *

L moves downstairs from the Cage while Light sleeps but he himself…

Well he hardly ever sleeps. He understands it’s a physical necessity for human beings but he finds it a chore and undertakes it with the same distain he buries into everything he finds dull and tedious. He never wakes feeling replenished. He always feels the same. Steady, rippling with mental electricity, powered by sugar and caffeine. His body is just an engine to power the machine of his brain and he’s never viewed it with any more fondness than that.

Light seems to find his entire self something worth idolizing and glorifying. It’s such a foreign way of thinking. So hedonistic. Organic this, expensive shampoo that… Light is the only prisoner L knows who wears hundred dollar cologne.

Then again…

L is the one who pays the bills.

Light is…

L can understand the concept of seeing him as a living art installation but that’s a wicked way to think. Light is art as much as exotic animals are a statement piece. He’s still wild and he will kill.

L has to hold onto that certainty.

But while he works downstairs in his office he has the camera feed of Light’s suite on the main computer screens mounted to the wall. The audio is Light breathing, Light tossing, Light murmuring—

L lifts his head.

What did he just say…?

The room is dark, but L can make out Light sitting in the bed without switching to the infrared.

He ups the volume.

“ _Michael_ ” Light stresses the word. “You know? Yes, exactly. I wish—Yes, now you get it. Good.”

L leans towards the screen.

Who is he talking to?

“Michael: 44, 2, 6.” Light declares into the empty room. “Ugh, I swear Sayu… 44, 2, 6. Don’t make me say it again. Good? Good. I’m going back to sleep.”

L grabs a notepad and scribbles the numbers down hurriedly.

44, 2, 6.

_What does that mean?_

Who is Light talking to, really? And who is Michael? Is it a message? Has Light found some way to pass on messages in the Cage? That’s physically impossible. It’d need to be a ghost. You’d literally need to walk through walls to come and go without L knowing.

The Death Note.

It had a Shinigami, Rem.

L didn’t get much data from their few conversations.

Could Rem walk through walls? She was technically invisible to people who hadn’t touched the notebook.

But how can there be another Shinigami? That would mean another Death Note. That’s not absurd, L still theorizes Misa at one point held one Death Note and Light another but he has no proof a second one exists and, if it does, how did Light get access to it again? He would need it to see the Shingami, wouldn’t he?

If it is a Shinigami then L can’t do much about it.

Who is it talking to? Who is Light messaging?

Michael.

Michael the Arch Angel?

No that doesn’t make any sense.

Angels don’t exist too, do they?

Even if this is something it looks like the gibberish of a mentally unstable prisoner without evidence. L needs more evidence.

How could Light communicate?

Who could he communicate with?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time; a working theory, a lawyer and an ever growing crack in Light's calm façade


	3. Chapter 3

After nine days they have seven potentially associated cases in their timeline around the three murders. L trusts Light’s instincts above all else but he has to consider Harris’s opinion in this. He noted the initial connection so…

“None of the associated crimes are murders,” L reviews. “We have three data hacks and four minor robberies from pharmacies and hardware stores.” 

“The first data hack and the pharmacy shoplifting pre-date the first murder.” Harris nods along. “That’s all nice but none of those crimes have ever been solved either. What does any of this tell us?”

“It tells us that this killer has stern motives.” Light speaks up.

“Huh?” Harris blinks.

“Think about it,” Light begins, “this person has killed three people and gotten away with it. But the intensity nor the urgency of crimes is increasing. They’re not killing just because they enjoy killing. They’re killing based on some other conditions and if those conditions are not met they don’t lash out.”

“Interesting,” L digests. “It makes sense. The profile for a person like that would be methodical, logical… but the crimes show a level of passion that suggests on some level this is personal for them.”

“This is necessity killing,” Light nods.

“Someone who thinks this is the best option to protect themselves and their interests,” L chews on the notion. “So then, what does that say about our suspect pool?”

“It is, in some ways, a very naïve way of thinking.” Watari voices.

“Elaborate?” L presses.

“If you think you can only solve your problems with extreme violence like that then perhaps you don’t have other options?” Watari continues. “Another adult, at the high school, could move or change jobs. They could lodge a formal complaint about the gym teacher. They could—”

“But a student would feel trapped.” Light grabs on. “Some teenager needs to protect themselves but they don’t have the standing, the independence or the emotional maturity to find another option.”

“But they’ve got a big enough IQ to hack the school network and get away with murder?” Harris frowns, not quite buying it.

“That just means this person isn’t well rounded,” L supposes. “They’re skilled in specific, analytical, areas but they lack emotional maturity or a sense of big picture.”

“They’re young and they think this is justified.” Light nods.

“I—Wait,” Harris flips through the printouts on his desks. “The gym teacher, right? He was murdered pretty brutally but we never found any _defensive_ wounds.”

“Your point?” L encourages.

“If this was a student they might be smaller, weaker.” Harris develops the thought. “What if this killer has drugged all three victims?”

“Then they’d remove the physical disadvantage.” Light clicks in, nodding. “A smart kid drugging people they hate to facilitate slitting their throats and making them suffer.”

“Was a toxicology report done on the gym teacher?” L supposes.

“No,” Harris grumbles, irritated.

“And there wasn’t enough of the missing girl found to analyse.” L sighs. “So we can’t prove that.”

“No but we can act within that theory,” Light suggests. “We review the robberies; was anything taken that could be used as a tranquilizer? And the school; who were the top chemistry students at the time?”

“It’s a start.”

“It might also suggest a timeline.” Light goes further. “If we assume the killer graduated at the same time as the drugged boy then they’d be twenty years old now.”

“Interesting….” L taps his lips. “But we can’t rule out they might be older or younger yet. Let’s set another broad net in these regions. Harris, Watari; I want you to look into the robberies. K and I will review the top chemistry students.”

“I can get that information easier,” Harris argues.

“Yes, but K has a good sense for the profile of this killer.” L maintains. “I want him reviewing the suspects.”

“Right,” Harris relents. “So--?”

“We’ll forward you the information once we ascertain it from the high school.” Watari promises. “For now, gentlemen, it’s midnight here so detective Harris and I will have to wait until morning. Perhaps we should take a break?”

L regards Light, considering that.

Light shrugs.

With the fifteen hour time difference between Baton Rouge and Tokyo it’s only 5pm for Light and L but L can’t make evidence appear faster at this point.

“Yes, that sounds wise,” he relents. “Let’s call a break for now.”

L switches off the webcams and headsets while Light closes up the laptops. The laptops are rigged with security filters and key trackers so L will know if Light peruses anything outside the case but so far Light hasn’t touched them.

L can only hope tempting him will bear fruit eventually.

“You really seem to understand how people like that think,” L rues in their relative privacy, switching off the now blank television.

“I’m not going to have this conversation.” Light grunts. “You’re transparent. I get it; I understand how killers think. That doesn’t mean I am one and you know it.”

“I’m just saying it’s interesting.”

“It’s not, it’s dull.” Light snaps.

L frowns, back to the prisoner.

“Should I leave you in peace?” L supposes, not turning back to face Light yet. He needs to gather himself. He still feels a little frustrated at the comment as it screws under his skin at his own doubts.

“I was going to make dinner.” Light replies nonchalantly. “You can stay and eat if you want?”

“Yeah, sure.” L slumps his shoulders.

What if he is wrong…?

* * *

“You’re a good cook,” L remarks as they eat.

“Lots of practice,” Light shrugs. “I’d get bored eating the same three things so… at some stage I had to learn how to cook more.”

“There are other ways,” L argues.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want French pastries flown to me for every meal.” Light snorts, amused. “I’m sure the grocery budget can only maintain one of you.”

“In my defence you do put some pretty fancy things on your grocery list.” L teases.

“When your day is simplified to a few basic routines you make them as enjoyable and as involved as you can.” Light replies. “So I handmake ravioli and stew lamb shank for five hours. Sue me.”

L hesitates from his next jab.

Certain things feel unnecessarily cruel when he’s essentially locked Light in a tower. L is cruel, in many ways, but he sees no point using those words unless they’re necessary. He saves his heaviest punches for the right moment to conserve their strength. There’s no point twisting the knife unless it serves a purpose.

He wants more from Light, more evidence.

He _doesn’t_ want a complete collapse in communication.

Not yet anyway.

* * *

Light takes some time away from the investigation the following afternoon. L is exorcised downstairs to his office. He can watch Light through the cameras but, for this solitary hour, he has to switch off audio.

Attorney-client privilege is a right, after all, so when Light meets with Teru Mikami the audio bugs have to switch off.

Mikami is a handsome enough man. Certainly more conventionally attractive than L. L could be more appealing if he cared to freshen up but it never really interested him. Light, conversely, might be seen as rather plain in some circles but something about his presence and the way he maintains himself adds a shine to every motion he makes.

Watching Mikami and Light discuss Light’s newest appeal is…

Two handsome men, gesturing like passionate philosophers in a Renaissance painting…

It’s distracting.

L shouldn’t be watching, of course. He can’t get any data from this. Light is comfortable enough with his long-term attorney but they’re never improper. They never touch. Light smiles occasionally, Mikami more so, and there’s an air of reassurance floating between them but without the audio its hard to tell.

What do they talk about when L can’t listen?

Mikami is primarily a prosecutor but Light commissioned him to act as a defence attorney in this case and Mikami jumped at the opportunity to ‘ _defend the rights of a Japanese citizen_ ’.

Mikami has a strong sense of justice but it’s almost…

Naïve? Is that the word?

L doesn’t have much to do with Mikami but his arguments are always so absolute. Straightforward black and white sort of things. Very compelling and very firm but deceptively simple. Mikami must be an intelligent man but he’s so…

L can’t help but think there’s something _wrong_ with Mikami.

He can’t put his finger on it.

He plops another sugar cube into his tea—

A sudden motion jerks his focus back the screen.

Light is on his feet, half the case file thrown across the floor, and Mikami is stiff watching him.

Light seems to be yelling, upset.

His diaphragm is moving in the right way for projection, but his hands are curled around his face in such a way that L can’t read his lips.

What’s wrong?

Is he…?

Light stalks, moving around the couch faster than L can switch camera angles, and presses himself against the bookcase on the far wall. His hands splay across the books, his face buried against the spines and his shoulder move like he’s still yelling.

Mikami is watching every motion, frozen with some emotion L can’t place.

Light is saying something, he speaks for almost a full minute, and when his shoulders fall Mikami snatches up a notepad off the floor and starts scribbling something. His hand moves fast and L can’t make out what he’s writing but it seems to be five or six points.

Mikami puts the pen down a moment later and, head down, he starts picking up the scattered case papers. He’s saying something now but, this time, his hair obscures the lip motions.

What are they talking about?

Do they know L is watching?

Do they assume? Do they care?

Is this an act…?

Or is Light…?

Is he _distressed?_

It makes sense, it’s predictable, anyone in his position would be distraught. Any twenty something would feel hopeless held without trial. But something about that, about the humility of that, feels wrong to ascribe to Light.

Any normal person would act this way.

But Light isn’t normal.

Kira isn’t normal.

L’s gut insists that, over and over, but some quivering homosapien in the corner of his mind feels a kernel of doubt. Dread leeches through L, a miasma of guilt, and he pushes it all down like trash in a can.

He can’t think this way.

He can’t doubt himself.

Light is Kira.

Two years ago he was absolutely certain of that.

He needs to hold onto that feeling.

* * *

L stalks up to the Cage about an hour after Mikami has left.

He pauses, thumb on his lip, to question the on duty guards.

“Did you hear anything?” He supposes.

The guard blinks behind his visor and glances to the others, confused.

“No Sir,” he grunts. “We didn’t hear anything.”

Interesting.

It’s possible they wouldn’t hear shouting through that thick door but what if Light wasn’t actually shouting? What if it was all a performance for L?

“Is everything alright, Sir?” The guard asks.

“Very,” L lies, “as you were.”

And he enters the Cage.

“Light?” He calls as the door deals behind him.

Light is curled on the bed, facing away form him. L can’t tell if he’s been physically upset or not. It’s hard to tell on camera. He thought it would be easier in person, but he doesn’t have an excuse to cross the distance and shove himself in Light’s face.

“I’m really not in the mood.” Light warns, voice painstakingly level.

“Harris and Watari will be back online soon.” L reminds. “I need your help reviewing the student records.”

“Make due without me.” Light instructs.

L considers his next move carefully.

“I need your help on this case,” L replies, steady.

“I don’t care.” Light hisses, shoulders curling tighter.

L knows that’s not true.

It can’t be true.

Light’s desperate for mental stimulation. He can’t want to walk away from this case. Still if he’s saying this now… Is this just to get L to buy the act?

How should L approach this?

Coddling is just playing right into his hands.

How will he react if L pushes?

“Those are nice crocodile tears,” L tuts, “but we have work to do, Light.”

Light doesn’t reply.

Damn it, L can’t draw conclusions from nothing.

“Let me know when you’re done with… _whatever_ this is,” L grunts. “We can get back to work when you’re feeling civil again.”

Nothing.

Just hot silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: L tries to be persuasive


	4. Chapter 4

L is certain Light will call for him in the morning, his outburst established, but Light doesn’t.

Light doesn’t call for _two days_.

L tries to work with Harris and Watari. He tells Harris that K is unavailable due to an emergency and will return shortly but doesn’t elaborate further. Watari knows better than to ask.

Still L starts to wonder if maybe Light isn’t coming back.

The student records sit, ready but mostly untouched.

L narrows down the suspects based off test results, first and foremost, but doesn’t delve into the profile further. He wants Light’s opinion. Light will know this killer as soon as he looks in the eyes of their yearbook photo. L needs that instinct.

L works but every twenty minutes he checks the cameras.

Light is coiled in bed.

The pharmacy lost several things to shoplifting in the two weeks before the gym teacher was murdered.

Light coiled in bed.

Some of the stolen products could be used to make a powerful tranquilizer.

Light coiled in bed.

The school had a data hack with the personal details and schedules of all staff compromised.

Light coiled in bed.

“So it seems like we’re on the right track,” Harris notes. “Maybe—”

“I’m going to have to leave you for now, Harris.” L replies abruptly. “It’s late here and I think I really just need to sleep.”

“Huh?” Harris is obviously surprised. “Yeah, sure Boss. Totally understand that. We’ll keep chewing and compare the other robberies around the later cases. See ya in the morning?”

“Right, thanks.” L shuts off.

Watari texts him within three minutes.

L doesn’t sleep after all.

[E.A.R]

It’s an old code for when Watari is feeling paternal. It just means; “ _is everything alright?_ ” and it’s usually directed more on a personal level than a case level.

[Yes] L replies before shutting off his phone.

He sits there for another twenty minutes, mind stewing, chewing his thumbnail.

Light hasn’t moved.

Is he really giving up…?

L doesn’t like that. He should be apathetic. If Light doesn’t want to play their game, then who cares? Surrender from the opposition is a step towards victory. And yet…

He doesn’t like this.

L heads up to the Cage.

It’s dark in Light’s space and L’s eyes take a second to adjust when the door seals after him. Trotting across the carpet L comes to sit on the edge of the bed at Light’s feet. Light doesn’t move but L can tell from his breathing that he’s awake.

L’s not sure how to play this.

“I need your help,” L tempts softly, as much as it irritates his pride to say as much.

“This isn’t about what _you_ need,” Light growls, coiled like a snake.

He might as well be hissing given how much violence his shoulders promise.

L stares at the far wall, weighing that phrase.

If he pushes Light again, will he break? Does L really want that?

He _should_ want that.

Damn it all.

“What do you need?” L offers, giving an inch.

Light pulls the pillow over his head, tense and raw. L sighs thickly between his thin lips. What can he do? What can he say? What can he offer? Light has food, shelter, clothing… Many of the things Light doesn’t have L can’t offer, like freedom. He needs to give _something_ but…

L reaches back, gently, aware that the wrong motion could end in a brawl.

He grips Light’s calf through the blanket.

It’s not an attack but Light tenses anyway.

The spring is about to burst, one way or another, but this seems the best move available. Light hasn’t really had human touch in two years. No kiss from his mother, no hug from his baby sister, no firm slap between the shoulders from his father…

It’s just L and L’s ugly fucking face, day in and day out…

L is acutely aware of how miserable that must be.

He doesn’t much like his face some days.

Light sags, seeming to compute this isn’t an attempt to irritate him further, and unfurls a little from under the blankets. Shifting carefully he sits up, obscured by the low light, and L tries not to make any sudden movements.

Light shifts, knees twisting under him, and slumps his forehead into L’s shoulder.

L lets him.

Light doesn’t ask for anything else, doesn’t move closer, but they stay like that for a long, long, time.

L listens to the sound of Light’s unsteady breathing.

He’s not sure if he wants to move or not but, either way, he doesn’t.

Light twists, slowly, unfolding his legs over the edge of the bed and takes an audibly deep breath as he lifts his head away from L.

“Are you really losing your grip?” L wonders.

“If I was, how would I even begin to answer that question?” Light replies.

L digests that.

It’s not an obvious lie, worse; it’s an uncomfortable truth.

“What do you want to do?” L offers, however unnatural it feels to be generous.

Light sighs.

“Let’s get back to work.” Light grunts.

“Right,” L nods.

* * *

Light slots back into the case as if he never was unsettled. He reviews the student profiles in under twenty four hours. He makes piles again; ‘Yes’ and ‘No’. And then he reviews his ‘yes’ pile again.

And again.

And again.

He keeps hovering over one file, considering the ‘No’ pile but always retracting it back into his hand. It touches the top of the ‘No’ pile once before Light gives it a permanent home in his lap.

“What is it?” L presses.

“It’s illogical,” Light murmurs.

“Let’s entertain it for a second,” L encourages.

“Sophie Dean,” Light lifts up the file. “She’s the right age, the right graduating class, high marks in chemistry, biology and computer science. High achiever but low social skills. Described by one teacher as ‘ _sweet but naïve_ ’.”

“Then what’s the problem?” L tilts his head, eyeing the photo of the little strawberry-blonde high schooler.

“She never had a single class or extracurricular with the gym teacher, the first victim.” Light reveals.

“And if she didn’t know him then where’s the motive, right?” L takes the file. “That is a conundrum…”

“She feels right,” Light rues. “I can’t place it, but she _feels_ right.”

L taps his chin.

“She doesn’t meet some of the vital criteria.” L agrees. “But maybe if we find the connection, we’ll find the motive?”

“Maybe,” Light blinks, entertaining that idea.

“Let’s keep her in the _Yes_ pile for now,” L places her down with some confidence, “a quick investigation of her current status might make things clearer to us.”

* * *

L has a thought.

Well, more like a powerful inkling.

While Light uses the bathroom, L eyes his extensive bookshelf.

Michael 22, 4, 6.

Page 22, paragraph 4, line 6…?

Light doesn’t have a phone or uninhibited access to the internet. If he did have an invisible Shinigami who could walk through walls… would that be a way he could communicate with someone? If they had a copy of the same book and Light sent his little messenger…

It would be one way to obscure his intentions to the bugs in the room.

After all, numbers without context sound like gibberish.

L shuffles over to the bookshelf, humming low in his gut.

What book would he choose?

And who is Michael?

L scans the titles.

Light has a copy of the Christian bible and the Qur’an. Michael is an arch angel, right? Then again Light also has a lot of classics and a range of modern fiction and non-fiction books. It could be any one of them or L could be on the wrong track entirely. But maybe…

L taps his fingertips against the flank of his thigh through his baggy pants.

“I walk away for five minutes and you’re slacking off?” Light teases, sauntering back into view.

“Hmm,” L grunts.

“What is it?” Light asks, curious.

“Nothing,” L supposes, turning back. “Let’s get back to work.”

Light frowns, not masking his flash of discomfort.

If L was onto him, would Light show his unease so openly? Or would he act casual?

What is more or less likely to deter L in Light’s mind?

It’s so hard to tell anymore. They’ve been playing four-dimensional chess for a while now. L has to consider not only how Light would react in a normal circumstance but how Light would act to throw L, personally, off the scent.

That’s the trouble, isn’t it? They’re not strangers anymore.

Later that evening, when Light is sleeping, L contacts Wedy.

Michael could be anyone, anywhere, but why not start with the obvious choice?

“Wedy,” L grunts into the phone, shaking a whipped cream canister in his free hand. “I need you to do some covert reconnaissance for me.” 

“Oh juicy,” Wedy snorts. “What backward corner of the world am I off to this time?”

“Tokyo, the Mirima Legal Firm.” L reveals. “I need to know what books Teru Mikami keeps in his private office.”

“Books?” Wedy supposes. “Legal books?”

“Any books, any type.” L reveals. “If you can get into his home without being caught to know what books he keeps at home too.”

“Do I want to know…?” Wedy asks, hesitant.

“Not this time.” L admits. “It’s just a hunch.”

“Well, I trust your hunches.” Wedy promises. “I’ll get it done.”

It would be good if L had more faith in his hunches right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: L sees a little too much on the cameras in Light's Cage and Harris starts interviewing suspects


	5. Chapter 5

The cameras record all night.

L doesn’t need to watch Light sleep.

He does though. Almost every night. He leaves the main feed on in the background while he works on other things on his laptop.

What’s the point?

Isn’t this a touch obsessive?

He’s starting to wonder if, over time, he and Light have developed from more than a game into an actual relationship of some description. Not necessarily a friendly or romantic relationship, hell not even a pleasant relationship, but they know each other to some extent. They feed off each other’s energy. They revolve around each other, like planets and stars trapped in an endless gravity. Some careless, invisible, force mostly primordial and entirely out of their control.

What should L do about that?

He needs to catch Kira, that’s obvious, but Light is going to leave a wound in L’s mind when he dies. He’s going to leave a cavity and even if he’s dead some fragment of Light’s voice lives rent free in the back of L’s mind. Chastising him, pushing him towards darker impulses, entertaining intrusive thoughts…

What should L do about any of this?

His eyes flicker up, drawn by a flash of sudden colour on the camera feed.

Light sits up in bed, rubbing his face, and pushing back the blankets shuffles out of bed in the low glow of the bedside lamp.

Bathroom, flush, kitchenette, glass of water…

It’s lazy, sluggish.

Light lingers at the sink, eyeing something or perhaps just staring into space while his mind processes. He empties the glass, leaving it in the sink, and drifts back to bed.

Bedside lamp, switch off.

Darkness swamps the camera feed again.

L doesn’t need to switch to infrared to know where Light is.

The bedsheets rumple on the audio.

Once, twice…

Light getting comfortable.

L refocuses on his work for another few minutes.

Bedsheets shifting.

Once, twice…

“ _Aah_ …”

L hesitates.

He lifts his head. 

He can’t really see much on the camera, just Light in bed, but there’s some pain in that sound. Some tension. It’s not a settling sigh. It’s not—

 _“Oh_ …”

L computes, all at once, what he’s hearing and ducks his head back down to his laptop screen.

Shit.

He hesitates, hands coiling around his calves through his pants.

He can just turn the cameras off.

But what if Light says something when he’s not watching? He’ll have to scrub the recording anyway.

Okay then, his logical brain reasons, then turn off the camera and leave the audio on?

But that’s obsessive and obscene and—

“ _Hnn_ …”

He does not need watch, to listen, to Light touching himself.

But he’s not moving.

He should move.

But he doesn’t.

What if…?

L’s mind, for the first time in a long time, is distractingly quiet.

Little breaths from Light, short and rhythmic.

He can’t see anything but…

Well, Wedy’s bugs pick up very delicate audio and he can make out every time Light’s breath hitches before sliding out into a moan.

His eyes flicker as he catches motion of Light’s legs shifting under the blankets.

In the low, low, gloom of the footage it just looks like a haze, but the sound of the sheets paints a clearer picture for him.

L can’t focus on his laptop screen.

 _Just turn it off_ , his logical brain insists.

Monkey brain says no.

And it’s a firm no.

L closes his eyes, gripping his calves.

He wants to pretend he’s drowning it all out, sitting passively, but without the distractions of all the blue lit screens and the soft continuous stream of audio running over him L’s brain paints a wickedly vibrant picture.

He’s a murderer.

He’s something else, something not entirely human.

You don’t kill that many people and maintain your humanity in one piece.

“ _Fuck, fuck_ —” Breathless, close now.

He probably assumes, safely, that L doesn’t obsessively watch him sleep.

L should—

“Fuck, fuck…”

His body won’t move.

He’s a monster.

Wait, L or Kira…?

Ugh, does it matter?

L should turn this off but he can make an argument for leaving it on. Light, meanwhile, is a sociopath. A murderous horror from a dark ocean. He’s cruel and manipulative. He’s a two-faced liar. He’s—

 _\--And that’s the best part_ , monkey brain whispers intrusively from the blackest corner of L’s mind.

L swallows.

His heart is thumping, adrenaline.

Is he aroused…?

Is—?

Light moans, tearing through the speakers in a pained, full bodied, sound.

And then stillness, silence.

L slumps his face into his knees.

Damn it.

* * *

L wants to say he can compress the memory or Light’s voice contorting like that but…

“What?” Light grunts, reviewing case material.

“Hmm?” L replies aptly.

“You’re staring,” Light reminds him, shoving a pile of papers under his nose. “If you’re crashing get more sugar, we need you here.”

“Right,” L sighs, taking the papers.

Harris has set out, with their short list of suspects, to interview the six that are still in Baton Rouge while Light, L and Watari investigate the eight who have moved further afield. Light’s prime suspect, Sophie Dean, is still in Baton Rouge according to the voting registry and her mailing address. L wonders what that will amount to but there’s no point speculating. Harris could be back any time now with more data for them.

Most of their out of state suspects have alibis for the murders or are ruled out simply through practicalities of the situational evidence. Kevin James was available for the first murder but was already a thousand miles away at a summer vacation party the night the second victim was drugged to death. Stacey Hart was available for the first two murders, given her timeline, but she’d been in South Korea for the last twelve months and in no position to make the third victim go missing. Things like that.

They’re narrowing in but the question still remains.

What’s the motive here?

What’s the necessity Light spoke of? 

They’re chewing on background stuff when Harris stumbles into the background of the webcam feed. Watari raises his head first.

“Welcome back Detective,” he greets.

“Hey, thanks,” Harris smiles absently. Watari seems to be growing on him but he’s quick to resume his seat before the feed and exhale heavily into his seat.

“Well Detective?” L greets.

“Did you guys find anything compelling while I was gone?” Harris wonders, pulling out his notebook.

“Nothing in particular,” Light answers. “We’re hoping you found more.”

“Well…” Harris frowns. “I’m not sure…?”

“Oh?” L encourages.

“I managed to get a hold of half of them so far,” Harris flips through his pages, “Brandon Smith, Steven Rodgers and Sophie Dean.”

“And?” Light presses harder, ears perked.

“Well, they’re all pretty squeaky clean. Average jobs, average lives… Rodgers has a DUI he hasn’t resolved from new year’s eve but Smith’s working for the city so that gives him access to some interesting shit, particularly industrial waste management for building sites.”

“Interesting.” L nods. “And Dean?”

“She’s engaged to her high school boyfriend, works in IT.” 

“Name?” Light asks, grabbing the file.

“Uh—” Harris flips, “Jason Madges.”

“Did they both attend the high school in Shenandoah?” Light continues.

“Yeah,” Harris nods.

Light starts flicking through their stacks of papers. “Jason, Jason…”

“What’re you thinking, K?” L supposes.

“Nothing, keep talking.” Light grunts.

L hums. “Continue Harris.”

“Well…” Harris sighs, juggling something in his gut. “If I can be totally honest with you guys?”

“Please do.” L answers.

“I dunno, something about Sophie…” Harris rumbles. “She was real calm, super calm, but it… it felt weird. Ya know? Not in a bad way just a little glassy eyed. Like she hears this shit all the time.”

“Was her boyfriend there?” Light asks, still flicking.

“See that was what really got me,” Harris recounts. “I was showing Sophie a photo of the missing girl, Mara? And soon as I said her name Jason, the boyfriend, drops something in the kitchen. Total butter fingers on impact. Looked a little pale when I left.”

“K…?” L turns again, hand out.

“Jason Madges _was_ in the gym teacher’s class and on the baseball team.” Light announces triumphantly, presenting the list of student’s names.

“I wonder if he was in any classes with the second victim?” L rues.

“What’re you thinking?” Harris asks.

“Well K is drawn to Sophie’s profile, like you Detective,” L reveals, “and I trust K’s deductive skills.”

It’s not ‘ _deductive reasoning_ ’ so much as a sixth sense for monsters, but…

“I was wondering about that,” Harris admits. “Maybe it’s a Bonnie and Clyde thing? They’re killing together, Jason uses Sophie for the shoplifting, the drugs, the hacking…?”

“Sounds like she’s pulling a lot more weight in the equation.” Light argues.

“What’s your theory?” L prods.

“What if Jason isn’t an accomplice? What if _he_ is the motive?”

“Interesting,” L taps his chin. “Tell me more?”

“This is necessity killing, or it looks like it,” Light reasons. “You’re in love with this boy, obsessed, and you’re not real strong in social situations or conflict resolution but you’re smart. And then the gym teacher gives him a hard time, or hassles him…”

“And you kill the gym teacher to protect him,” L nods, digesting.

“Not sure about the second victim but if we look at Jason then we might find a reason,” Light continues. “But the third victim, Mara, she concerns me.”

“Yes, I’m starting to see why…” L rues.

“I don’t follow?” Harris grunts.

“Mara, the missing girl,” L recounts, “she was in Shenandoah to meet up with someone. Probably a date.”

“Yeah but we never found her phone or any messages on her general social media,” Harris frowns.

“Regardless,” L murmurs, “if Mara was travelling to hook up with Jason…”

“Cheating?” Harris starts to compute.

“And Sophie destroyed the competition,” Light nods. “But Jason still likely initiated the contact and, if that’s the case, then—”

“Then Jason could very quickly become Sophie’s next victim, if we’re right.” L concludes.

“Shit,” Harris wheezes. “And you think we’re right?”

“It’s a compelling theory.” L shrugs. “I’d say our chances are five to twelve percent right now.”

“Is that--?” Harris turns to Watari.

“It’s higher than any other option currently.” L grunts. “And Sophie now likely suspects we’ve connected the three cases from your interview. She should feel the net closing around her.”

“So what do we do?” Harris wonders. “Put a tail on them?”

“If Sophie is obsessed about Jason, she won’t _want_ to kill him. She wants to control him. Own him.” Light declares. “But this is a high-pressure situation. Sophie is unlikely to kill Jason without a good reason but if he pushes her and they discuss his illicit hook up in any detail…”

“The methods of killing do imply some emotion,” L nods. “Meaning if Sophie gets too emotional, she might snap.”

“And she’s getting better at disposing of bodies.” Harris murmurs, looking at his notebook. “And we can’t exactly convict her if we can’t find Jason’s body tomorrow.”

“Right,” Light agrees. “We need to move carefully or we’re going to have a fourth body.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: all that pressure and no where to go? Something's going to explode


End file.
